The Lighter
by darkrubberducky
Summary: York and Carolina have never had it easy. But with a little twisting of fate, they might finally have a chance together.
1. The Death of York

So, a couple of months ago, after finishing season 10 of RvB, I thought of a fan fiction for York and Carolina. After a few days, it went from a one-shot, to a couple of chapters worth of story, mostly because I didn't want all dialogue about my version of the story. So, after tweaking it the last few weeks, I'm finally ready to release chapter one of The Lighter. Hope you guys enjoy and please let me know if you notice any major flaws in my logic. I've tried covering all my bases, but another set if eyes always sees more, right?

Also, try to remember this is RedvsBlue, a series known for crazy plot twists and turns and reveals. I tried to keep the characters' way of speech and voices in my head, but Tex is kinda crazy to write for.

Last but not least, **I DO NOT OWN any part of RedvsBlue, nor anything from Rooster Teeth, or anything they come up with.**

* * *

**Chapter One: The Death of York**

* * *

"Ahh!"

York fell to the ground, clutching his chest. Man, now _that_ hurt like bitch! How the hell did people get shot and not die from the pain alone? York guessed it was just part of being...

"York, are you okay?" Texas shouted.

_Yeah, never been better._ He groaned. "It's that damn left side." Seriously, why the hell did he run out with Wyoming on his _left_? He'd known better.

"D, info." Texas demanded.

Delta appeared above him. _Love that little glowing guy. Guess it'd be weird saying that out loud, huh? _"York has sustained two wounds to his upper left chest. Recommend evac stat."

No shit. "Just... need a minute." He said with a lit in his voice, trying to keep it light. Wasn't easy, though. He groaned again.

"Administering field splints and..."

"Wait. Wait. Tex... Don't let him..." _Don't let him get you. You are kinda important. Hey... Why was it getting dark all of a sud__‒_

"York is now unconscious. Alarm: Target Alpha has reloaded."

Texas had heard Wyoming reloading. But there was something more important to worry about. "How bad is it, D?"

"York will not survive."

Texas felt a pain in her chest hearing that. _Damn it, York._ "Okay, D, hop into me. I'll host you until we can get out of this."

"Thank you, Allison. But I would prefer to stay with York. He will need me to maintain his pain medication."

"An A.I. can't fall into enemy hands, D. If you're in there when he dies, you know what the armor's protocol will do to you."

"I would prefer to stay with York."

_Me, too._ "That's very kind of you, D."

"Its just part of what makes us human, Tex."

_You can come back for him. But first, get answers from Wyoming. That's why you're here._

Despite what a lot of people (including those idiots at Blood Gulch) would think about her, Texas wasn't about to just leave York behind and let him die in this hell hole. Especially with the Recovery agent protocols for dead Freelancers. Armor: Destroyed. A.I.: Recovered. Agent: See Armor. Fuck that. Those cock bites didn't get to blow York up. _That's _my_ job._

_Wow, that sounded a lot darker than I meant it..._ Tex thought. Shaking her head, she asked Delta for one last favor before she went to get Wyoming.

* * *

_"Recovery One. Come in, Recovery One."_

"Go ahead, Command." Washington replied.

_"Wash, we have a recovery beacon."_

"Who is it?"

_"Agent York. We are sending the coordinates to you now."_

"Affirmative, Command. On my way."

_"Rodger that."_

Another beacon? There had been three others in the last few weeks. All three directly involving the Meta. Agent Maine. A former friend. Just like this recovery. Agent York. Another old friend.

Agent Washington didn't want to admit it... but he was upset by this news. It wasn't part of his life now to have feelings. He was a Recovery agent. The best Recovery agent. He did his job and left, with no muss, no fuss. No emotions. He took what was needed, did what needed doing and blew the fuck out of everything left at the scene.

And that was the problem. _I knew this guy. _It was one thing to destroy evidence of some random soldier's existence But York... Washington had known him, had trained and fought beside him. They'd been friends.

"You know... some days... This job sucks."

Washington readied his equipment and pulled up the coordinates. Hopefully, this was the last recovery beacon for the month.

* * *

York saw Texas walk slowly towards Wyoming. Delta was silent. He could feel the warmth of his blood pooling beneath him, some of it filling part of his armor. It wasn't a very comfortable feeling. But then, dying wasn't comfortable for Freelancers was it?

With the last amount of his strength, he reached down into his pocket, pulling out his lighter. As the darkness returned, he smiled, remembering the night he'd met her. The night he'd fallen totally, idiotically in love with a woman who would never be anything but a far off dream.

A woman that he'd see again very soon.

The lighter fell from his hand.

* * *

Oh, hitting Wyoming in the front of the face felt sooo good. Texas smiled as she looked down at the fallen ex-Freelancer. For good measure, she kicked him in the stomach. He made a hilarious sound with that pompous British accent still noticeable. How tempted she was to keep kicking him. And maybe shoot him a few times. And rip off a few body parts. But first...

She leaned down and grabbed his helmet. Connecting to it, she took all the information she needed from him and tossed it down next to him. _Hmm... Wonder how long it'd take him to regrow that 'stache? _Tex shook her head. "Focus." She returned to where York lay. Blood was everywhere, but oddly not as much as she'd thought. Wounds to the upper left chest. That was bad. Tended to die quick. York was no different it seemed. _Poor York. What did I get him into?_

Why was she always getting everyone into deadly situations. In her memory, she'd gotten a lot of people dead over the years. She'd killed C.T. Caused a rift in the Freelancers with her very presence. Been the catalyst for Maine obtaining Iota and Eta... right before he'd killed Carolina.

Carolina. Man, she'd really fucked up Carolina. In a lot of different ways.

Now she'd gotten York killed.

It was days like this she kinda wished she'd just stayed with Church all those years ago. Despite how much of a dick he was and how much of a bitch she was, they'd been good together. Maybe because they were both such assholes. Misery loves company.

"D."

"Tex. I did not think you would be returning."

"York?"

His silence was her answer.

"Look, D. I've been thinking... I know its a long-shot, but is there any way for you to delete your memory?"

"I am sorry. I do not understand."

"Your memory. Can you delete it. Wipe it clean?"

"I am afraid I cannot. At least, not in the capacity you are thinking."

"What do you mean? Can you or can't you?"

"If I were to delete my memory, it would only be for a small amount of time before the memories would begin to return. I have several backups for such a situation."

"How much time are we talking here?"

"An hour, at the most. The memories would then begin resurfacing."

"That may be all I need. Would you log off for a while, D? I'll call you when I need you again."

"Of course, Agent Texas."

Delta blinked out.

Tex looked around the fortress. There were only so many options she had in making this work. The Recovery agent would come to collect the A.I. then destroy the armor. It was just part of their jobs, but it made hers a hell of a lot harder. How to move York without the A.I. or the armor but still leaving a body for them. She couldn't leave an empty suit of armor with the A.I. haphazardly laying on the ground beside it. Command would think York was alive and wonder.

So how could she...

Tex slowly turned her head to the dead soldiers Wyoming had hired to help him. A blue guy and a red guy. Both dead. Neither needing their armor.

Well well well, seems these guys were more than just cannon fodder.

Sizing them both up, she opted on the blue guy. He was close to York's size. Plus, she really hated the color blue right now. Reminded her of a certain group of morons she'd spent the last few weeks with. If anyone deserved to be blown into the future...

"Hey, D."

He blinked beside her. "Agent Texas. I feel... odd. I do not believe that I am in the same..."

"Trust me, D, I know. Listen, I need you to wipe your memory now. All of it. Everything from your creation to now. Got it?"

"Affirmative. Deleting now." He flickered before disappearing. Tex took that as her sign to get the hell out of this shit hole.

Her task accomplished, Tex pulled York up and over her shoulder. She stumbled. Holy cow! What did this guy eat, weapons of mass destruction?! He was heavy as hell! Grunting, she started back to the teleporter. Once through it, she hurried -as much as she could with a freaking whale on her shoulder- to their transport. Without much ceremony, Tex tossed York into the back of her vehicle.

He groaned.

She screamed.

* * *

Carolina tapped rapidly on the keys, going through a dozen files a minute, looking high and low for what she needed. She'd hacked into Command's data bank a half hour ago, searching for any information she could get her hands on to help her in her mission. There were basic files, troop assignments and profiles. Miscellaneous files here and there that seemed completely irrelevant. Not that she knew what the UNSC needed to run day-to-day operations, but why they needed files titled "Orange Monkey Eagle" was beyond her. And since she was breaking into a major military organization's computers, she didn't really have time to look into it.

Instead, she looked for anything under "Project Freelancer", "states", "special operations", and "Recovery". She'd had some luck so far, but the Director wasn't mentioned in any of the files thus far. She didn't have much longer until the next group of guards showed up, so instead of reading she copied it all do the data unit she'd taken. Dragging the files from "Recovery" file, she was surprised when a window opened. It flashed red repeatedly.

RECOVERY BEACON ACTIVATED...

Carolina frowned. The Recovery beacons were activated when a Freelancer was killed. There were several from the last month, making her wary. The Meta was killing agents left and right. He'd killed only one other Freelancer, though not from her team. They hadn't had A.I.s, so Carolina was confused as to why he continued to kill them.

Then again, he'd killed more than just agents in the last few years. Maine had been a strong fighter back in their Freelancer days. It seemed that with Sigma, he'd gotten stronger.

Refocusing her thoughts, she pulled up the Recovery file.

_"Recovery One. Come in, Recovery One."_

She looked around at the voice. When no one appeared, she realized it was coming from the recovery beacon.

_ "Go ahead, Command." _

Washington. Carolina didn't know he'd joined the Recovery team. And being Recovery One meant he'd been the business a while. And that he was good at it. How he could handle recovering A.I. and armor from fallen friends didn't sound like something Wash could do. He'd always been free spirited and lighthearted.

She'd lost contact with everyone that day the Meta escaped, but she was surprised Wash had gotten to be hard enough to get into this business.

_ "Wash, we have a recovery beacon."_

_ "Who is it?"_

_ "Agent York. We are sending the coordinates to you now."_

Carolina's head whipped up. _What?_ Tapping the keys again, she looked at the file. Her heart stilled at the information. Agent York, formally of Project Freelancer had been shot and killed at a deserted base on an island on some no-name planet. Details currently unknown. All there was were the coordinates and basic information about the agent.

Clenching her fist tight, she fell to her knees.

_York._ Of all the former Freelancers, she'd thought he'd be the one to evade any trouble that came his way. Despite his bad luck over the years, he had lived through some amazing situations.

A single tear pinged against the metal floor beneath her. Her hands shook, and her body refused to move. The next patrol would be there any second, but she just... couldn't move.

Choking back a sob, Carolina shook her head again violently and grabbed the data unit. _Push it back. Use it._

Setting her invisibility, Carolina slipped through the door just as the guards turned the corner. They missed bumping into her by inches, chatting on about some other guard whose duties were too easy. Moving to the back of the facility where she'd stored her transport, she tucked the data unit into a pocket.

This was the final straw. This was the motivation she truly needed to end him.

It was time to kill the Director.


	2. Alive and Well (Mostly)

Alright, onto chapter two. Hopefully everyone enjoyed the first. I admit, I enjoyed writing it. I have Carolina and York desktop wallpapers for inspiration and music playing. Now lets see where we can go from here.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Alive and Well (... Mostly)**

* * *

"It looked like a bra, okay?"

A voice outside jerked York awake and he immediately regretted it. Pain ripped at his chest and he groaned, reaching up to his chest. Gently probing the area, he discovered why it had hurt as much as it had. He had thick bandages over the area, blood already seeping through the cloth. After feeling around the area, he guessed he'd had stitched, which he'd torn open. He took a mental stock of himself. His whole body ached, like he'd been kicked then thrown down a flight of stairs. His chest hurt the most, obviously, but so did his head and neck. Something else felt wrong with his head. Something was missing...

"It was a newspaper, man." Another voice said dryly.

"I know that now! But at the time and the angle I was at and the water and stuff..."

Where the hell was he?

Pulling himself up slowly, he glanced around the room. He was in an infirmary. Metal walls and metal flooring suggested a spaceship or military base. The howl of wind against from outside told him military base. As did the caution signs showing how to treat a bullet wound. Among other odd injuries.

Across the room from him were two cots, one's mattress was folded, the other was made up with white sheets and a brown wool blanket. There was a rolling table with medical supplies and a bottle of alcohol.

_What I wouldn't give for that bottle right now._

Finally pushing through the uncomfortable pain in his chest, York pushed himself to the edge of the cot and dropped his feet to the freezing metal floor. A wave of dizziness hit him.

"Oh, man, what the hell happened?"

"Finally awake, huh?"

York's head whipped up, causing another wave of dizziness, but he ignored it. "Allison?"

Agent Texas leaned against the door frame, her arms crossed, her hips stuck out in that cocky manner he'd seen before. "About time you woke up. I was beginning to think I'd have to leave before you woke up." Pushing off the door, she strolled over to his cot. "How ya feeling, champ?"

"Like I got shot in the chest!" he said with a chuckle... which morphed into another groan. "Wow, remind me not to laugh."

Allison patted his shoulder gently as he sat back against the pillows.

"How long have I been out?" he asked.

"About three days."

"Wow. Only three? I was out longer after getting my fave blown up." Chuckling, he absently rubbed a hand down the back of his neck to try to ease the stiffness there, his hands gliding over smooth skin. No metal met his fingers... Wait..

"Delta?"

"I've got some bad news for ya, buddy. D's gone."

"What...? What do you mean, gone? Did the Meta attack? Did he get Delta?" He tried to stand again, but Texas held him down.

"No. The Meta didn't get him. I... sort of put him in a dead soldier."

"You did what? Why would you do that? You know D could be found..."

Texas held up her hands in. "Hey, I had to think fast! You died, York. I knew the Recovery beacon would go out. I couldn't very well take both you and D and just leave empty armor around, could I? They'd have gone after Delta, which meant they'd have gone after you."

York breathed out deeply. She had a point. Recovery agents didn't much care about the armor, not as much as getting the A.I.s back. "I get it, Tex. I guess... it's just a shock. He's been with me a long time. Its like... losing a part of myself." No inane chatter about statistics. No random facts about minor things in their surroundings. No more mild tempered Delta to talk to.

He may have been annoying sometimes, but he'd been a damned good friend to have. Even if the little bastard had stabbed him in the back a time or two. No biggy. Delta did what he thought best.

"From what I hear, Washington was the Recovery agent that was assigned to you. So at least we know he's in good hands."

"Wash? That crazy boy?" York snorted. "Wouldn't have thought he'd join Recovery. Heard those guys are so apathetic, its scary. He always wore his emotions on his sleeve. It was kinda embrassing."

Texas shrugged. "A lots changed since that day."

York nodded, a single thought crossing his mind. A single person. "Yeah. Sure has."

Texas pointed with her thumb to the lockers against the far wall of the infirmary. "I've got some armor for you in there, along with some clothes."

"Where am I?"

"Sidewinder. I passed through this base a few years back, when it was just called Blue Base. Now its Viper Base. The last guys here... ran across some trouble." There was a smile in her voice. _Sounds like there's a story there_.

"The new guys here think you're a new recruit. I dragged you in here half dead." She chuckled. "You'll likely never live down the fact you were nearly killed before ever arriving at the base."

"How did I get here? Last thing I remember I was..." Holding that lighter. Thinking about her. Nothing new there, but in that moment...

Looking around, he didn't see any of his stuff on the small table beside him. He'd had it when he'd died. It must have fallen when he'd died. Tex wouldn't know how important it was to him. She's have overlooked it.

"Wyoming shot you, as you probably remember. But don't worry. I clocked him good for you. Kinda wish I'd shaved his mustache off when I had the chance." There was a little pout in her voice.

"After you died, I got the information I needed from Wyoming and went back to get you. I knew I couldn't take you away with that armor and Delta. They'd know someone had the two and they'd go after it. So, I switched your armor with some dead blue guy Wyoming had hired and implanted Delta into him. Told D to wipe his memory so he didn't go blabbing to the Recovery agent about it. Then I took you with me." Texas put a fist on her hip. "You know, you scared the shit outta me, coming back to life like you did."

York grinned. "Did I now? Wish I'd been awake to see that."

Texas tilted her head and looked back over her shoulder. "Look, York. I gotta go. There is some serious shit going down I need to deal with. I've put it off as long as I can..."

"I understand."

Texas nodded and turned to leave.

Before she crossed the doorway, York called out to her. She turned. "Yeah?"

"Why _did _you take me with me? I would've slowed you down." When she didn't respond, York leaned his head back, closed his eyes. Man he was tired. "So why take me with you? Why not just let Recovery take care of me. I was dead. It wouldn't have mattered."

It was another few moments before she answered. "Do you remember what the first thing I ever said to you was?"

He thought of the training room where he'd first run into Tex. Wyoming and Maine shooting at her and York trying to help. He remembered.

York looked up to find Texas gone.

_Never abandon your team!_

* * *

_Carolina._

_She looked up at the sound of York's voice from the shadows. They were back in the elevator, shadows filling the small space, obstructing her view of the man as he paced back and forth, never actually looking at her. He looked down, as if ashamed._

_ Reaching out, Carolina was surprised to find herself holding a gun. Shaking her head, she tried to lower her arm, but it remained._

_ "York?"_

_ "You could have come with us. It would have all worked out, Carolina. We could have been together all this time. Maybe... maybe started a new life. Away from all this." He shook his head violently, as if trying to throw the thought from his mind._

_ "York." Her finger twitched. She reached up, trying to pull the gun away from her own hand, but it was like it was frozen. She couldn't move it away. "You need to get away from me! Hurry!"_

_ He slowly turned, facing her, and began to walk toward her. She saw his helmet when he stepped into the light. It was shattered, the helmet he'd been shot in. But it looked like there was blood spotting the glass, as if he were still bleeding. "I would have done anything to stay with you, Carolina. You know that."_

_ "Get away from me." Her voice broke on the plea. PLEASE, York! Get away, before..._

_ In a daze, she watched as York knelt before her, never taking his gaze from her own. Her hand shook holding the gun, the muzzle pointing directly at his head, over the shattered glass. She felt her other arm reaching down into a pocket, withdrawing something. When Carolina looked down, she saw herself toss the lighter she'd taken from him years ago._

_ York glanced down at it. Just as he was reaching for it, she felt her finger pull back on the trigger..._

Suddenly, Carolina was jerked from the dream, shoved into another.

_She hit the glass hard, her head slamming around in her helmet. She felt herself impact hard into the ground, blackness taking over._

_ Carolina woke moments later. White now blurred her vision. Snow swirled around her. She couldn't move, her head spinning. The ship had crashed. She and Texas had been thrown forward from the force. Texas had hit the railing. Carolina had..._

_ There was a crunching of snow behind her. She turned just in time to see Maine walking towards her. The malice radiating from him warned her. _Get away!_ Spinning around, Carolina started to drag herself away. But there was nowhere to go. She stopped, looking down at the cliff and the endless fall below. Her A.I.s, Eta and Iota, began to yell in her head, their voices causing pain to shoot through her skull. _Stop talking!

_ "The Meta," one said, the voice was feminine, like a young girl's, and scared._

_ "He's going to take us," the other, this one a woman's voice, but this one was calm. Almost excited._

_ Stop talking!_

_ "Don't let him take us." Eta._

_ "You can't stop him." Iota._

_ Maine grabbed her._

_ "What are you doing?!"_

_ He grabbed her helmet, yanking it from her head. When he reached around her head, she knew._

_ "He's going to take us!" the A.I. screamed. _

_ "No!" Carolina beat at Maine's arms trying to break his hold. "NO!"_

_ Maine ripped the two pieces of metal from the back of her neck. They had had to be drilled in, so when he tore them from her skin, it was worse than when they'd been implanted. The voices ended abruptly. The silence was only welcome for a few brief seconds before Maine threw her off the cliff._

Carolina jolted awake. Sweat covered her, the sheets damp with it. Her heart pounded in her chest, the dreams still vivid in her head. She panted in and out, her lungs burned with fear. She could still see the gun at York's head. Still see the snow covered cliffs.

Throwing off the thin blankets, she set her feet on the cold stone floor and rubbed her face with shaking hands, trying to erase the dream from her mind. Tears streaked her cheeks, her eyes swollen and her throat hurt. Had she screamed in her sleep? That wouldn't surprise her. She'd woken up this way several times over the last few years. The dreams weren't the same as tonight, but they all brought back horrible memories. She'd dreamed of falling, but never of York's death. Though she hadn't killed him that day on the Mother of Invention, it didn't help stop the guilt she felt.

Carolina punched her mattress, choking back more tears. She needed to forget, if only for a time. She needed to forget the dream.

_Carolina._

"Damn it, York," she whispered. She could still hear his voice, pleading with her.

_Let's not do this._

Flashing lights and a beep drew Carolina's attention away from her nightmares. Hurrying over to the bank of computers she'd set up in the room, she typed in a few commands and brought up the cameras. The screen to her left showed multiple images, each a different part of the base she'd taken over a few months before. It had been perfect for her uses, everything from water to electricity was still running and the lack of soldiers was a bonus. She'd needed a place to do her research, to find the Director.

In the bottom center camera image was a person standing beside the main entrance. Their armor was green with a hint of black around the shoulders. Armor Carolina recognized.

She pushed a button. "Come on in... Delaware."

Turning away from the computers, Carolina quickly donned her armor, ignoring her helmet, and went to greet the former Freelancer.

Delaware stood just inside the main entrance, looking around with obvious uncertainty. Carolina nodded to the Freelancer. "Delaware," she said in hello. "What took you so long?"

Delaware's head swung around. "Carolina." There was a smile in the voice. "Well well, when I got your message, I thought for sure this was a set up." The Freelancer waved a hand out to the base. "Cozy digs ya got. Been here long?"

She shook her head. "Only a few months. Its not much, but for now, its home sweet home." She couldn't keep the bitterness from her voice.

_Why feel bitter, Carolina? Not like you really had another home, anyway. Not for a long time._

They fell into silence for several moments, neither knowing what to say to the other. They'd never really had a chance to get to know each other too well. Delaware had been stationed on another Freelancer ship, the Father of Innovation. The Director had set it up shortly after launching the Mother of Invention, trying to make a another, equally strong Freelancer team.

From what Carolina remembered of the other team, they'd been lead by Agent Alaska. She'd been a strong willed lady. She and Carolina had sparred together a few times. Gone into the training room a round or two. Carolina had always come out on top, but it'd been close. And Alaska had never beat herself up about the continued loss. She'd always smiled and laughed. "I'll get you one day, Carolina," she'd joked. "You can't always be number one."

_Oh how true those words had become._

The other agents had included agents Michigan, Nebraska, Rhode Island (or Rhodes), Colorado, and Delaware's younger sister, Virginia. Alaska had done an amazing job training them. They'd all been as good as Carolina's team, some of them better. Michigan had been the best sharp shooter she'd ever seen, and that was saying something with North's skills.

Delaware had been their team's intel. Thus why she were here now.

"Do you have the info I asked you for?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." Delaware walked forward, handing over a data unit to Carolina. "Its not a lot. There wasn't much information on the Director, honestly. I don't know how much help it'll be."

Carolina nodded. "Any information is good information at this point."

Delaware watched the former Freelancer as she turned and walked deeper into the base. Following after her, Delaware saw her place the unit in a computer, opening the files immediately. She flipped through them so quickly, Delaware was taken back. A lot of people could skim through information with no problem. But Carolina was going through them so fast, it was amazing she could gather even a shred of information from the flashes of letters and maps.

"So... I heard about York."

The ex-Freelancer paused while flipping through the files but said nothing. Delaware let out a sigh. "Look. I wanted to say I'm sorry, Carolina. For what happened to York. It must have been hard for you. And with North killed in the same day... We all felt the loss."

Carolina's nodded stiffly.

Delaware placed a hand on her shoulder. "I know what its like, C. I know how it feels to loose someone you love."

And she did. Her baby sister, Virginia, had been killed years ago, on a mission.

Along with every other agent on her team.

Carolina turned her head away. "I can handle it."

"I have no doubt you can. But maybe you should... I don't know, let it out."

She laughed, the sound harsh and humorless. "What, like _cry_?"

Delaware shrugged. "It helps."

"Finding the Director will help. _Killing_ him will help!"

"Maybe. But maybe... Maybe its time to let it go."

That pissed Carolina right the hell off. She spun around, knocking Delaware's hand off. "Let it go?!" she yelled. "Let the fact he put us all at risk go? Let go of the fact he broke the law? Let go of what he did to Maine? And to your team? And now to York and North? Let everything he did to _me and to all of us_ go?" Carolina slowly shook her head. "No. No, this ends only after he dies!"

"Do you still feel guilty, Carolina? About Maine?"

She jerked, her spine going straight. "Of course I feel guilty. Sigma was _my_ A.I."

"So?"

"What do you mean 'so'? So, it was my fault! I gave Sigma to Maine-"

"Because you wanted to help. You couldn't have known what would happen, Carolina."

"I should have guessed. All of the A.I. were made for the Freelancer they'd be implanted into! The Director made Sigma for me. It was ambition. Ambition that the Director saw in me and he made Sigma to match!"

"Yeah, because the Director was a dick!" Delaware snapped.

The outburst surprised her. She was speaking the truth, but still...

Delaware sighed. "Think. Do you really believe that Sigma wouldn't have done the same thing to you that he did to Maine?"

"What do you mean?"

"Sigma was ambition, just as you said. The Director made him for you because _you_ had a wealth of ambition. But he was also creativity. He had his ambitions and he was crafty enough to get around things like being a fragment to get what he wanted. Look what he did to Maine! He was a noble guy, willing to take a bullet for any of us. And Sigma turned him into a killing machine. Maine was a great soldier, he was a bulldozer! But you are forgetting something vitally important."

Carolina shrugged. "What's that."

"_You_ were stronger. You are more of a force of nature than any human I have ever known. I've seen you take on an entire army and save your team." She shook her head. "Carolina, if you had had Sigma implanted, _no one_ would have survived."

"What are you talking about?"

"Sigma would have taken over. He would have used your ambition for his own gain. He would have turned you against the Freelancers just like he did Maine. He wouldn't have taken them out one at a time. You would've have blazed through every soldier on the Mother of Invention. Killed every one of your friends, because they'd have tried to stop you. But I doubt any of them would have been able to stop you. Hell, all of them may have failed."

But that didn't change anything, did it? Maine had still suffered. It should have been her.

"Thanks for the information, Delaware. I'll let you know if I find anything."

Sensing the conversation was over, Delaware nodded. "Alright." Turning to leave, she paused. "Carolina?"

"Yeah?"

"I would start looking for other files, if I were you."

Carolina frowned. "Other files?"

"You keep looking for 'the Director'. Try looking for other things."

"Such as?"

"Try looking under the individual Freelancers. I found a few out of place things scattered in all of our personal files. You'll keep going in circles looking for him directly. He's too smart to leave a trail that leads right to him."

Carolina nodded. "I'll do that. Thanks."

"See you someday, Carolina."


	3. Errera

I told myself I wouldn't write this scene. Over and over I thought "Leaving it be is best." But as I was writing some of the scenes for later, I kept coming back to York and Carolina's first meeting and it just... unfolded. And now I can't help but write it.

Also, I got my flags mixed up from last chapter. Blue teams have eagles on their flags... Red teams have the snakes. So, I'm just gonna go with it. Just thought I'd mention I noticed the mistake. And on top of that, I found out after watching a few episodes again that Wyoming teleported away before Texas got info from his helmet in Out of Mind. And I thought I was doing my research so well.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Errera**

* * *

** _Many Years Ago..._**

She needed a drink.

Walking down the main drag of the club district, she gazed left then right. Nothing caught her eye, really. They were all the same. All of them thumped with bass, vibrating any and all windows on the block. Neon lights strobed various names and images. People dressed in tight leathers, short skirts, and tops that showed more they covered, men and women alike mingled outside on the streets. Some laughed and touched. Some of them stumbled on unsteady feet.

She was just about to give up on her search for a good place when she reached the end of the road. The place was... interesting. The entire front wall was made up of a screen with crazy dancing dots. The neon sign above the door read _**errera**_and was surrounded by a circle broken by a lightning bolt. She studied it for a few minutes. Lights reflected off the overhanging ceiling outside. The pillars holding it up were huge and covered in tube neon lights, like everything else. What she thought was most odd was the lack of people milling around the club's entrance. In fact, the place looked empty from the outside, filled only with sound and light. The music and thumping of bass was just as loud as the other clubs, but it wasn't the crazed, headache-causing mass of sounds they played.

In fact, when she drew closer, she found they were playing one of her favorite songs by an artist not many club-goers wanted to dance to. Settled then. All she wanted was a drink, anyway. Why not enjoy it, instead of fighting off randy drunks?

She began striding down the street towards the entrance. The gauzy material of her skirt tickled the backs of her knees. The heat of summer could be stifling, so she'd dressed more for comfort than style. Though she had to admit, she rocked this skirt. The electric blue went well with her basic white tank. Both were great for summer, but the skirt was perfect for clubs. Short as hell in the front, it had a long train down the back, making sitting on bar stools a lot less awkward.

Not that she got out much anymore. Her training with the U.N.S.C. had taken up so much of her time, she barely knew what day it was. She trained dawn to dusk and then some. With her speed, she was well known by the recruits in her unit as being a demon to spar with. It helped that she'd been training her body for combat since early high school.

He'd insisted.

Pushing the thought of the Director out of her mind, she walked through the doors as they whished open. She felt the slightly cooler air inside the building battle with the heat outside. Her skin prickled but she ignored it as she walked through the dark hallway leading to the main dance floor. More lights blinked and swirled around inside, the song continued to blare from huge speakers.

People danced in groups and in pairs, holding brightly glowing drinks and enjoying themselves. She passed it all, heading to the back of the club where a long, glass and metal bar spanned from one side of the room to the other. Bar stools held more people who were waving at the bartenders. Three guys stood behind the bar, slinging bottles into the air or filling glasses from the taps behind the glass front.

Seemed like everyone was having a great time...

Until she noticed one of the bartenders walk to the very end of the bar, farthest from where she currently stood, drawing her eyes to the man sitting in the shadows on the last bar stool. He wore a dark pair of jeans, a yellow t-shirt and a tan leather jacket. His head was down, one hand holding a glass of amber liquid, the other fiddling with something...

* * *

Tonight sucked. A lot.

Not looking up when the bartender brought him another glass of whiskey, he flipped open the lighter he'd snagged earlier from one of his buddies, a regular at the club, flicked it on, and stared at the flame for a few seconds before snapping it closed.

Two hours ago, a few of the guys from base had dragged him out here to party the night away. They'd claimed they'd wanted to throw a going-away party for him, but he had his suspicions. He wasn't much of a party animal. Yeah, he liked to drink. Yes, he loved loud music. And okay, girls in short skirts were great to see anytime, anywhere, but he still didn't like clubs.

Then, an hour ago, they'd ditched him to find another club. He knew before they headed back to base, they'd hit a few a other clubs. How they made it back to the base every morning and preform their duties was beyond him.

This place just wasn't his style. He liked sitting in a good old run-down dive of a bar. No bright lights, no blaring dance music, with a pool table (virtual or solid) in one corner, and a few drunks telling strangers their life stories.

Man, he wished he'd gone to one of those bars instead.

_Flip. Snap._

Good thing he'd be off planet in a month, anyway. He had had a good run with the U.N.S.C. for the last four years he'd been a soldier. He'd liked it overall. He hadn't had family for a long time, at least, none he was close to. So when he'd turned eighteen, he'd joined up with the U.N.S.C., hoping, like all the other guys his age, to fight some aliens, maybe save a world or two. Kick ass and see different planets. He hadn't done any of that so far, but he'd learned a lot. He was damned good at hand-to-hand, his aim was descent (not great, but hey, not everyone could be a sharp shooter!) and he was dedicated.

He'd always wanted to be a good guy. Ever since he'd gotten out of juvie. Now, he'd been offered a chance to do good and use his talents at lock-picking.

_Flip. Snap._

Reaching out, he picked up his whiskey and took sip before setting it back down. He'd been slowly nursing a bottle of the stuff since he'd walked in the door. No reason not to. It'd be a long night and he was bored out of his ever-loving mind.

He'd thought about dancing with a few of the cute girls who'd glanced his way, but he couldn't bring himself to care enough to get off his ass and ask one. He'd thought about leaving, but what the hell did he have to do? Go back to base and be just as bored with less alcohol?

_Flip-_

A hand snaked out of nowhere, grabbed the lighter before he could snap it closed again. Turning around on his stool, he frowned... until he saw the hot-as-hell redhead in a blue skirt.

_Holy crap._

Was that skirt legal?

A deep red eyebrow arched over leafy green eyes that laughed down at him. Her lips, colored the same shade of red as her hair, curled in amusement. "You know, they say fidgeting is a sign of boredom." Her voice, deep and husky, purred past those lips.

He swallowed hard. "Yeah?"

She nodded, tossed the lighter in the air, caught it and slipped it into a pocket hidden in the hem of her skirt. It looked like it disappeared. She waved a hand down at the stool beside him. "Mind it I join you?"

"Promise you won't let me stay bored?"

Another smile. "I can try."

She waved over a bartender and leaned forward on the bar, her arms folded under her breast. _Again, holy crap!_ "Can I get a beer, please?"

"Sure. Any preferences?"

The redheaded angel shook her head before turning and looking back at him. "So, why the long face?"

He chuckled. "Isn't that his line?" he asked, pointing to the bartender as he set her beer bottle down in front of her.

"Well, I'm pretty sure he's too busy to listen or care. So I thought I'd ask instead." Taking a sip of the beer, she winked. "Go ahead. I'm all ears."

He shrugged as he sipped his own drink. "Not much to tell, really. Just got dumped here by a few of my buddies..."

"Some friends," she murmured.

"And I can't bring myself to leave."

Damn good thing too. He'd have missed out on this chance to talk to the most beautiful woman he'd ever met. She was amazing on the eyes. She sat with one leg over the other, her red and blue ankle boots drew just enough attention to those mile-long limbs to the point he was surprised she wasn't grabbed on her way to the bar. But even as she gave the appearance of relaxation, she had this... look about her. Her shoulders weren't completely loose and her eyes watched the club by way of the mirrored back of the bar.

"How about you? What's a pretty girl like you doing all alone?"

"Is that a pick-up line?" She asked dryly with a smirk.

"Was it any good?"

She laughed, tossing her head back. Now that was an amazing laugh. "It wasn't too bad. It wasn't good, either, but I've heard much worse!"

Interested, he leaned an elbow against the bar, turning his body towards her. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

A smoky chuckle. Setting her beer on the table, she sighed. "Well, lets see. 'Are you lost? Because it's so strange to see an angel so far from heaven.'" He laughed. "Or 'Is your father a thief? Because he stole the sparkle from the stars, and put it in your eyes.'"

"Wow, so mine wasn't too terrible. Huh?"

"Don't count on it working."

"I think I'll just leave the terrible pick-up lines to the other guys."

She tapped her beer bottle against his glass. "I think that's for the best."

So they talked. An hour passed and he was still laughing. How this night had turned out so well was a wonder. He'd been so down earlier, but with this little lady, he was enjoying himself.

"Say, you know, I just realized I haven't even asked you your name."

She tipped her head and slid her hand out to his. "It's Carolina."

He shook it. "Carolina, huh? Like the states?"

"Yep. My mother was stationed on a base in North Carolina. She said she always liked the name Carolina, so when I came along, she thought it was perfect." She smiled as she thought about her mother.

"She was in the military?"

Carolina nodded. "Yeah. Both my parents, actually. That's how they met. They were in basics together, but my dad left the service when I came along and started his own side projects." She shrugged. "My mother wasn't around a whole lot. She got shipped out every few months. So it was just me and my dad."

"Raised by the military, huh? That explains it then."

She frowned. "Explains what?"

"You have this... tension. No, not tension. A readiness. Yeah, like you're always prepared for something to happen."

"Ah, you noticed that?" Was it just him, or did she just... blush?

"Kinda hard to miss," he laughed. "I'm with the U.N.S.C. You see a lot of people with the same look in their eyes as you have."

"Well, I've been an army brat my whole life. I got into it myself a couple of years ago."

"Yeah? You stationed around here?"

"Yes, but I'm actually about to be stationed off-planet."

"Hey, me, too." He tapped her leg good naturedly. "Maybe we'll end up in the same..."

_"Carolina."_

She tensed at the familiar voice behind her. _Well, bye-bye good time._ Not bothering to turn around, Carolina sighed as she pulled her pay-card from a hidden pocket in her skirt. Swiping it across the bar's glass surface, it pinged in approval. "Well, looks like my night's over."

He frowned, watching her stand up. Reaching out, he gripped her arm softly. She looked over at him. His brow was furrowed, the concern clear in his eyes. "You know this guy?"

Carolina gave a bitter laugh. "Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do. That is the Director."

Before he could respond, the man spoke again. "Carolina, I don't remember giving you permission to leave the base." The man stood just behind them, his hands folded behind his back, which was as rigid as a board. His salt and pepper hair was slicked back, out of his face, and from the uniform, he assumed this guy was in the military. Probably her CO. And with that deep southern accent, he sounded like a cliché villain.

This guy definitely didn't look like he belonged in a night club.

Beside him, Carolina finally turned around. Her green eyes flashed, but she just clenched her jaw. "No, sir."

"And I believe you have duties to attend to before we depart."

"Yes, sir."

When the Director spun around to leave, Carolina knew he expected her to follow him. She glanced over at the soldier beside her. His greyish amber eyes showed confusion, annoyance, and concern at the interruption, and she couldn't help but smile.

"Guess this is the end..." She paused. "I never got your name, did I?"

A grin split his lips. "Nope."

She waited a few moments. When he didn't respond, she shrugged. "Well? You gonna give it to me?"

"Oh, you don't wanna know," he said with a groan.

"Pretty sure I do," she said in that purring tone he'd grown addicted to in the last hour.

"Its terrible. Trust me. Just call me Foxtrot."

"Funny name for a guy."

"Its still better than my real name if you ask me."

_"Carolina!"_

Another soul deep sigh. "Gotta run... Foxtrot."

"Guess this is good-"

She stepped forward, putting a gloved finger over his lips. "Don't." When he blinked at her in surprise, she laughed and shook her head. "It's just... I hate goodbyes."

Nodding, he took her hand and kissed the back of it. "Well, then. Until we meet again? Carolina."

"See you around. Foxtrot."

Pulling her hand away, Carolina turned and walked to the exit, the whole time regretting... regretting she didn't decide to stay. But if she turned back now...

She'd lose all the head-way she'd made with the Director.

_I want him to be proud of me. Like he was... __**is**__ proud of __**her**__._

So, leaving the loud beat and bright lights behind, she walked out of the club. And even though she knew she'd probably never seen the man -Foxtrot, she thought with a snort of amusement- again, she couldn't bring herself to say goodbye to him.

* * *

_**Present Day...**_

Carolina flipped the lighter open. Snapped it shut.

She'd been thinking about that night at Errera for hours now. While going through her supplies that morning when she'd found the lighter in her armor pocket. For the longest time, Carolina had just stared at it.

This thing had changed her life. Not by much, but enough that she felt... attached to it. Though she knew she and York would have met later in life, not too long after that night in fact, she knew that that night had brought them a lot closer than they'd have been otherwise. Once she'd joined Project Freelancer, she'd... hardened. She hadn't been carefree much when she was younger, true, but once she'd become a Freelancer, fun wasn't a part of her life. She hadn't let herself enjoy much of anything.

So that night at Errera was like her last day of freedom. She hadn't thought that at the time, of course, but now, she looked back and she would have never let York get as close to her as he'd been if it hadn't been for her needing for a drink and this little piece of tin.

Setting the lighter down on the table beside her, Carolina focused on one of the personal files open on the screen in front of her. She had been reading these files for days now. A few new leads had surfaced, but still nothing she thought she could count on.

Until she found an odd folder.

_**Agent Florida: Relocated**_

Florida? Opening the file, she almost choked. "Butch... Flowers?" Through her research, she'd found out all of the other Freelancer's names. None of them as crazy as Butch Flowers.

She _had_ finally found York's name though. Llyod. _No wonder he didn't tell me his name..._

She flipped through the data. The blue Freelancer was impressive. He hadn't been a big player on the Mother of Invention team, but after the Father of Innovation had lost most all of its main team, leaving Delaware and a few others including Florida, most all of whom were still in training, the Director had brought him over to the Mother of Invention. He'd only been in training a few months and had already been on par with some of her own team. She'd watched Florida and Washington in a sparring match right before Wash had been added to her team, and she'd been surprised by Florida's fighting. He was agile, could take a hit as well as Maine, and was pretty damned fast, both mentally and physically.

According to the records she'd received since trying to find the Director, she'd found that Florida had been signed off as killed in action.

This file, however, showed him as active duty as captain of "Blue Team" in a practice base called "Blood Gulch." Practice bases were set up all over the place to help train Freelancers and other special ops groups. They were generally made up of soldiers the U.N.S.C. wanted to get off their hands. Troublesome, often times idiotic soldiers even the U.N.S.C. didn't want to deal with. Each base was set up with a series of events. The special agents sent to each base were meant to deal with the situation to the best of their abilities.

Carolina began looking for files connected to this "Blood Gulch." She found two folders. In the first were maps of the canyon, lists of supplies (or lack thereof) at each base. General day-to-day information. There was even a list of recent and future equipment to be sent to the bases.

In the other, she saw a list of the soldiers. She read over the Red team first, skimming the information. By the description given each soldier, none of them sounded Flowers. When she brought up the second list of soldiers, Carolina almost punch her hand through the screen.

On the list was a Capt. B. Flowers. And his privates was a Private L. Tucker and... Private L.L. Church.


	4. New Ground

Sorry for the terrible delay. I've been dealing with a lot emotionally on top of re-writing this chapter about ten times. I just couldn't get the thing going. Hopefully its okay, though it's gonna be really short. I'm really having trouble getting the next few chapters planned. I have nearly the entire last half in my head, its getting _there_ that's a pain. Anyway, I've been getting better about getting over my issues, so my next chapter should be out in a few weeks.

* * *

_Many Years Ago..._

Sweat trickled down her spine, over her forehead, into her eyes. But she continued to attack. Beating her fists into the hard leather, kicking out her leg, pounding the bag until her muscles burned. And then she kept hitting.

Keeping her fists up, she dodged an imaginary punch, returning it ten fold. Her breath whooshed out of her lungs. She made sure to keep her breathing steady, not to over-do it. Her heart slammed against her ribs, the beat strong and she focused on it's rhythm, keeping time.

The sun shined bright today, the first day of the rest of her life. She'd arrived at the new training facility the day before and hadn't wasted any time getting to know the lay-out of the place. Where the training rooms were, where all the equipment was set up. Though she hadn't been given a suit of the new armor yet, she had begun training in weighted rooms, where they lowered the gravity just enough to add resistance when working out. She was able to deliver one hell of a punch now.

She didn't have long before the rest of her new team joined her in the main room. She hadn't met but two of the other recruits, and didn't know their names. Wouldn't know any of their names, seeing as how they were all getting new ones soon. All she knew were they were twins.

Still attacking the punching bag, Carolina heard a footstep just behind her. Spinning around, she threw a punch. Her hand slammed into a man's iron-hard forearms. Confused, Carolina dropped her arms to her side.

The man peeked from behind his arms. "Well, well, if it isn't my old drinking buddy."

"Foxtrot?"

He grinned at her. "I didn't except to see anyone I knew here." His expression suddenly took on a thoughtful look. "Hey, wait a minute, I though you said you were going off planet?"

"I am," she said. "We'll be going off planet, after training. Well... whoever _gets through_ the training."

Oh, digging at his ego. _Meow_. "Huh, I guess you're right about that. Say, wanna train with me for a bit?"

Carolina smirked. "Think you can handle it?"

"I can take you, little lad-"

She fell into a sweeping kick. Foxtrot landed soundly on his back, grunting as he hit the ground. Carolina stood over him and crossed her arms. "What was that, pretty boy?"

He grinned. Quick as lightning, he swung his leg out, taking her's out from under her. She landed next to him, her eyes wide with surprise. They both laid there for several moments before Foxtrot arch a brow at her, that damn smile still curling his lips. "Like I was saying..."

"Say it, and you won't speak for a month." Carolina sat up and glared at him. "That was a low blow."

"Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?" He smacked her leg. "You started it." Standing up, he offered her his hand. When she just stared at him, he shrugged. "Promise I won't let go."

"And you trust that I won't drag you back down?"

Foxtrot loved that husky purr. He'd heard it back at errera, and man, it got him. "Hey, trust is gonna be a big thing around here. Why not start now?"

Carolina took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. Foxtrot kept hold of her hand. "See? Didn't let ya go?"

"Yeah, guess that means I have to trust you now, huh?"

He nodded over his shoulder. "Common, lets go a round or two."

Carolina couldn't help but smirk. "Bring it on."

They walked across the room where there were mats laid out on the floor and lining the walls. A set of dumbbells were set up along one wall, punching bags hung along the other. Foxtrot began jumping up and down, shaking out his arms and shoulders. "Alright little lady," he said. "One-on-one. Mano-a-man-"

Carolina struck. Her fist connected squarely with his eye. He shook his head, his eyes wide. Falling into a defensive stance, he narrowed his eyes. "So, that's how we're gonna play this?"

"Hey, you said you wanted to go a round. Don't expect me to go easy on you."

"Alright," he said. "You asked for it."

They circled each other, both keeping their hands up, ready to either attack or defend. Carolina didn't like being on the defensive. She said forward with one leg, kicking out with the other, connecting with his forearms as he brought them up to block. She didn't wait for him to reciprocate. Without pause, she punched at him again. He ducked and threw a punch, connecting with her ribs. Falling a few steps backward, Carolina grunted.

Protecting her ribs this time, she spun, kicking again, this time aiming and connecting with his head. Foxtrot threw a right hook, but as she dodged, she noticed his hand pull back the slightest bit. Taking advantage, Carolina tripped him, his body flipped onto the mat and Carolina didn't let up. She slammed a foot down into his sternum, causing him to gasp. "Are you _pulling_ your punches?"

"Of course not." He gave her an innocent angel look.

"You son of a-"

Foxtrot rolled away from her foot as it stomped down on the mat beside him.

She followed, hitting him hard in the stomach. His grunt was like blood in the water. Carolina attacked full force, but he was dodging as many hits and she was getting in. He was fast, almost like he expected her attacks. So she decided to do something he wouldn't expect.

"Holy-" Foxtrot curled into a ball. "That... was a low blow."

She chuckled. "Below the belt."

There was a slow clap from the other side of the room. Spinning around, Carolina found one of the new recruits at the door, watching with a smile one her face. When she saw she had their attention, the woman sauntered into the room. "That was quite impressive."

"Yeah. Quite." Foxtrot groaned.

Carolina looked the woman up and down. She had the build of a fighter, similar to Carolina, but she also had a soft face, kind but focused eyes. A fall of golden waves tumbled over one shoulder. Not quite the look of a military specialist.

The woman glanced down at Foxtrot, still laying on the floor, then back to Carolina. "Thought I should let you two know that everyone is meeting upstairs. We should be starting the introductions soon."

"Thanks for the heads up." Squatting down, she patted Foxtrot's shoulder. "You gonna be okay?"

"Peachy. Just... gimme a minute. I'll meet you up there."

Carolina turned and followed the woman out quickly, trying to hide her smile.

* * *

_ Present Day..._

_ Viper Base, Sidewinder_

"Wrecked him?" York said, "Damn near killed him!"

The soldiers at Viper base burst into laughter. Private Mickey was falling off the guardrail he'd been perched on for the last hour, holding his sides as he laughed. Leaning beside him was Private DeNoff, who simply shook his head and smirked. Poor Private Zachary had nearly swallowed the cigarette he'd been smoking.

York grinned at the guys. Nice to have someone laugh at his jokes! He'd known that joke was gold the first time he'd heard it.

DeNoff slammed York on the back. "Man, you've got some good jokes."

"'Damn near killed him!'" Mickey continued to laugh.

"What the hell is going on out here?"

York and the others straightened, coming to attention... sort of. Mickey was still giggling as Sergeant Lindsay walked out of the base, looking at them with narrowed eyes. He spared Mickey a passing glance before stopping in front of York.

"Okay, newbie, what have you done this time?"

"Telling a damned good joke." DeNoff said.

"Causing trouble," Sergeant Lindsay replied. "You know, that's not exactly the best path... for a guy who was half dead before even getting to his new base."

The guys cracked up at Sgt. Lindsay's rip. Mickey fell to the ground again, unable to remain on his feet.

York smiled. "Hey, you guys didn't see who I was attacked by."

Private Zachary blew out a line of smoke. "Yeah? Didn't happen to be the girl that dragged you in, would it?"

Mickey jumped up. "Wait, wait, wait! Foxtrot here... was dragged into the base... by a girl?"

Four sets of eyes turned to him, and York couldn't help the blush. All four burst into laughter. Sgt. Lindsay slapped his knee.

"Hey, if you knew anything about her, you'd know never to call her a girl."

"What she gonna do, son? Kick us all in the balls an obscene amount of times?"

_Yeah, probably._ York knew she was a hard hitter, and he bet it didn't matter _where_ that hard hit was aimed.

Sgt. Lindsay held up his hands, trying to calm the riotous laughter of the soldiers. "All right, boys, lets settle down here. I came over here with the new orders from Command."

Mickey scoffed. "These orders wouldn't happen to be along the lines of 'Stop messing around and attack Eagle Base', would they?"

"Nah," Zachary scoffed. "I bet the orders are to 'Keep trying to win.'"

"Or maybe, 'Hey, beat those reds, whatever the cost.'"

They looked to their C.O., who was now looking everywhere but at them. "Well..." he cleared his throat. "Our orders are to..."

"Yeah?"

"Our orders are to stop messing around and try to win at all costs."

Sgt. Lindsay walked back into the base to escape the howling laughter.


End file.
